Sometimes…we have to make difficult choices. And I have made mine – and Bud’s. There was no operation.
Part of my job involves working with health professionals, but for humans. Cancer is cancer. Because they are what they are, I mentioned Bud’s condition. I told them where the tumour was located.
“How old is the dog?” one inquired. When I told her Bud was 9, nearly 10, she frowned. I know she’s a dog lover.
“What?” I asked. Her expression alarmed me.
“It’s up to you,” she replied, “but if it was me, I’d let it go and leave him fade away in peace. Take him back to the vet when the cancer gets too painful to endure. The operation won’t help. It will just give him more pain. He may be okay for a month or so….but more than likely not. It will be pain until you can’t stand it anymore, then you’ll have to get him put down anyway.”
Although her words tore my heart, she had just confirmed what had been a nagging fear in the back of my mind. Still…even if she has worked in the field for a long time, I wanted another opinion. I went back to my office and searched the internet. I typed in “life expectancy for pit-bull”; then “cancer in dogs”. Everything I read supported her view. The tumour was in a bad spot, and his age needed to be considered too. The most we could expect after the operation would be an extra 5 to 6 months, and not necessarily good ones. Then we would have to go through it all again.
I didn’t stop there. One of my friends, who has owned dogs for years, has a contact in the veterinary circles. We called long distance and finally reached the man. No, he said. The cancer is placed where you can’t get it all without removing his anus, operating will only make it spread faster, and the animal will suffer more. It would be needless pain, with the same result. It’s a question of what you want, he told me sympathetically; quality or quantity time for your pet? And, unlike with humans you love, here you DO have a choice.
My indomitable Bud has a high tolerance for pain. This mutt went under the wheel of a SUV, got up, shook himself, and kept running after his chosen rock as if nothing had happened. But…he’s no longer a pup….. his breed has a life expectancy of between 10 to 12 years when healthy.
At the moment he is eating well, and is forever chasing ice chunks down the hill when we are outside, and continues to shake the heck out of the welcome mat when he sees me come in the door. The only time he shows any discomfort at all is at night and this after a day of play. Then he’ll groan like a person with arthritis, which, muscular as he is, is probably present in his body too. He has more difficulty climbing the stairs in the evening, and is wheezing some, but old age will cause that.
After much soul searching, I decided that I don’t want him to suffer until there is no other option, especially if the operation is only going to induce pain earlier, and, according to experts who do NOT just want my money, has little or no chance of success. So far he is still going strong. I chose quality. When I called the surgeon to cancel the appointment, she showed no surprise.
My attitude towards him has changed, of course. I pay more attention to him when I’m at home, scold him less, hand out treats more often. He responds in his “ME, Bud” fashion – I am no sooner sitting down than he’s leaning against me, insisting on being petted, or lying heavily on my feet, or thrusting his huge head under my arm with total disregard for whatever I may be holding in my hand at the time. That’s fine with me. We’ll enjoy each other for as long as we can. When the time comes for him to cross Rainbow Bridge, I’ll hug him tightly, kiss the top of head, and let him go; his dignity intact.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
Showing posts with label Bud's abscess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bud's abscess. Show all posts
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
BUD
Bud has been the main character of a story I wrote when I joined my writing club. The story covers 15 chapters, and it is all true. I'm thinking of posting it here, chapter by chapter, just so readers will know how much history there is between me and this pit-bull named Bud. This post, however, is what is happening now.
My Bud has cancer.
I have been to see more than one vet. The first one guessed it was an abscess, then poked and probed in it with a needle to the point where I stepped back – Bud’s lip was curling and he was growling. It’s extremely rare, but when Bud does that, one pays attention. That dog can pick up bigger rocks than I can, and does it on a regular basis. I’ve heard there is up to 2000 pounds of pressure in a pit-bull’s bite. I wasn’t about to find out if it was true or not. When I warned the vet, she decided to put a muzzle on him, and this he did NOT like. It took three of the assistants to hold him…for about 15 seconds…and they went flying back when Bud decided enough was enough – he was getting up and out. All that (at a cost of $280.00!) for nothing anyway, because 5 days later they called back to tell me they could not determine what caused the huge bump on his backside.
My daughter had recommended another vet – one in St-Benoit. It was a longer ride, but Bud enjoyed the excursions in the truck, so I made an appointment. This man knew his business. He didn’t probe. “Cancer tumour”, he said, on seeing the lump. Because he does not do that type of surgery, he gave me the telephone number for a specialist in Lachine.
The specialist was excellent. Instead of upsetting the dog by putting him up on a table, the vet got down on his knees beside Bud. Instant rapport. He was able to support the diagnosis, and took a biopsy to get more information. Within 48 hours he called me to suggest a surgeon outside the hospital. She was good, he knew her personally, and she would do it for half the going rate charged by the hospital. He gave me his cellular number so that she could contact him for more information.
Last Thursday night, Bud and I went to meet her. She, too, did not attempt to put the dog on a table, but knelt beside him to verify the info she had received. She warned me that she may not be able to remove all the cancer. The lump is right beside his anus, so cutting away all the disease may be impossible. But she would do the best she could.. She told me the fee, which was 1/3 of what the hospital would charge, so I agreed. Bud will be operated on next Thursday.
He’s only a dog, I know, but as much as I hated him when I first met him, that much I love him now. He is hard-headed, independent, and as macho as they come, and he’s his own dog. He’s a pure pit-bull, with stress on the ‘BULL’, but he’s also a big-hearted, loyal, cuddly mutt; a dog with a sense of self who has won my heart. Whatever extra time I can give him, I will do so without hesitation. It’s as much for me as for him – I don’t even want to think of losing him.
Besides – I’ll get to see him waddle around in a diaper for a couple of days. That is going to hurt his dignity big-time. And he owes me this one.
But damn – I almost forgot. I’m going to have to wipe his butt twice a day to prevent infection. Bud wins again.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
My Bud has cancer.
I have been to see more than one vet. The first one guessed it was an abscess, then poked and probed in it with a needle to the point where I stepped back – Bud’s lip was curling and he was growling. It’s extremely rare, but when Bud does that, one pays attention. That dog can pick up bigger rocks than I can, and does it on a regular basis. I’ve heard there is up to 2000 pounds of pressure in a pit-bull’s bite. I wasn’t about to find out if it was true or not. When I warned the vet, she decided to put a muzzle on him, and this he did NOT like. It took three of the assistants to hold him…for about 15 seconds…and they went flying back when Bud decided enough was enough – he was getting up and out. All that (at a cost of $280.00!) for nothing anyway, because 5 days later they called back to tell me they could not determine what caused the huge bump on his backside.
My daughter had recommended another vet – one in St-Benoit. It was a longer ride, but Bud enjoyed the excursions in the truck, so I made an appointment. This man knew his business. He didn’t probe. “Cancer tumour”, he said, on seeing the lump. Because he does not do that type of surgery, he gave me the telephone number for a specialist in Lachine.
The specialist was excellent. Instead of upsetting the dog by putting him up on a table, the vet got down on his knees beside Bud. Instant rapport. He was able to support the diagnosis, and took a biopsy to get more information. Within 48 hours he called me to suggest a surgeon outside the hospital. She was good, he knew her personally, and she would do it for half the going rate charged by the hospital. He gave me his cellular number so that she could contact him for more information.
Last Thursday night, Bud and I went to meet her. She, too, did not attempt to put the dog on a table, but knelt beside him to verify the info she had received. She warned me that she may not be able to remove all the cancer. The lump is right beside his anus, so cutting away all the disease may be impossible. But she would do the best she could.. She told me the fee, which was 1/3 of what the hospital would charge, so I agreed. Bud will be operated on next Thursday.
He’s only a dog, I know, but as much as I hated him when I first met him, that much I love him now. He is hard-headed, independent, and as macho as they come, and he’s his own dog. He’s a pure pit-bull, with stress on the ‘BULL’, but he’s also a big-hearted, loyal, cuddly mutt; a dog with a sense of self who has won my heart. Whatever extra time I can give him, I will do so without hesitation. It’s as much for me as for him – I don’t even want to think of losing him.
Besides – I’ll get to see him waddle around in a diaper for a couple of days. That is going to hurt his dignity big-time. And he owes me this one.
But damn – I almost forgot. I’m going to have to wipe his butt twice a day to prevent infection. Bud wins again.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
PLAYING IN TUNE
“It was one of those days – one of those crazy, crazy days.” Remember that tune? It was playing in the back of my mind all day yesterday; with good reason.
My first call came early in the morning. My youngest son, Jo, wanted to tell me there was a new baby on the way. Yippee!! That was the good news.
After 2 hours of frustrating traffic, I walked late into an office where 4 stagiares were sitting waiting for me to give them work. My fault. I hadn’t amply prepared before leaving on Friday, nor did I follow-up during the weekend. I already had a full agenda for the morning, so it was rock and roll trying to get everything in order. Throughout this havoc, our one toilette blocked and “runneth over”. The janitor pulled a no-show, and by the end of the day those of us who had not gone knocking on our neighbour’s door to borrow their service were doing the “gotta-go” dance.
I had an appointment at the vet for Bud, my oldest pit. He had a big swelling on his bum and on his paw – it looked like abscess – and I could tell it was hurting him. With all the stern at the office, I left late, endured another long trip in traffic, and rushed as best I could to get home, pick up the dog, and get to the vet’s in time. That, of course, wasn’t going to happen. I finally got a very mucky dog (it has been raining here for the past few days, and Bud loves mud!!) into my clean truck, and was nearly at the destination when my cellular rang. It was Fran telling me that my brother, Bird, was running a high fever, and she was worried. She had called the hospital and they told her to bring him in, but he was refusing to go.
It was a torturous hour before we got away from the vet’s, an episode in itself about which I will tell you more later. Suffice it to say that Bud does NOT like the vet, and the vet no longer likes me, there was pain involved, and Bud astounded everyone with his strength! Let your imaginations work on that one, lol!
I raced back home, released the dog from of my previously clean truck, and then stopped at the pharmacy before running to my brother’s apartment. By this time his temperature was close to 103 – not good!! He was still refusing to go to the hospital, and I don’t really blame him. With our Quebec nurses drastically overworked, none of his experiences in there have been good ones. Fran and I dosed him with fever reducer, covered him with ice packs and cold cloths, then we waited. Slowly, the fever abated. I was to meet a new employee to go over her contract that evening, but called her to postpone to the next day – I didn’t want to leave until I was sure Bird would be okay on his own. That actually happened earlier than expected, and I finally crawled into bed, the telephone beside me just in case, thankful that the panic was over. But it wasn’t.
My 18 year old grandson, driving to work in the wee hours of the next morning, had a tire fall off his newly purchased car, fought for control, and ended up smashing into a guard rail, totally scrapping his automobile. The miracle is that neither he nor his passenger was hurt; they came within an inch of going over the rail and rolling down the side of the mountain. Being young, he was more upset about now having to make payments on a vehicle he can no longer use, but, of course, his mom and the rest of us see it in another light. To hell with the car! To add insult to injury, that same afternoon he discovered that his bank debit card had been cloned, and the thieves had emptied $300.00 from his bank account. And I thought I was having a bad day!!
The update in this soap opera of our lives is that I really am going to be a grandmother for the sixth time; Bird is feeling much better (must have been the 24 hour flu); my grandson was reimbursed the $300.00 by the bank, and is shopping for a new car and will never, never again buy one without it being thoroughly inspected; the janitor left a message saying he repaired the toilet last night; and Bud is easily taking his medication, albeit wrapped up in cheese. The crazy, crazy day is back to normal...for the moment.
Sending you all a big warm SMILE, and wishing you an exciting (but not crazy) Wednesday!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
My first call came early in the morning. My youngest son, Jo, wanted to tell me there was a new baby on the way. Yippee!! That was the good news.
After 2 hours of frustrating traffic, I walked late into an office where 4 stagiares were sitting waiting for me to give them work. My fault. I hadn’t amply prepared before leaving on Friday, nor did I follow-up during the weekend. I already had a full agenda for the morning, so it was rock and roll trying to get everything in order. Throughout this havoc, our one toilette blocked and “runneth over”. The janitor pulled a no-show, and by the end of the day those of us who had not gone knocking on our neighbour’s door to borrow their service were doing the “gotta-go” dance.
I had an appointment at the vet for Bud, my oldest pit. He had a big swelling on his bum and on his paw – it looked like abscess – and I could tell it was hurting him. With all the stern at the office, I left late, endured another long trip in traffic, and rushed as best I could to get home, pick up the dog, and get to the vet’s in time. That, of course, wasn’t going to happen. I finally got a very mucky dog (it has been raining here for the past few days, and Bud loves mud!!) into my clean truck, and was nearly at the destination when my cellular rang. It was Fran telling me that my brother, Bird, was running a high fever, and she was worried. She had called the hospital and they told her to bring him in, but he was refusing to go.
It was a torturous hour before we got away from the vet’s, an episode in itself about which I will tell you more later. Suffice it to say that Bud does NOT like the vet, and the vet no longer likes me, there was pain involved, and Bud astounded everyone with his strength! Let your imaginations work on that one, lol!
I raced back home, released the dog from of my previously clean truck, and then stopped at the pharmacy before running to my brother’s apartment. By this time his temperature was close to 103 – not good!! He was still refusing to go to the hospital, and I don’t really blame him. With our Quebec nurses drastically overworked, none of his experiences in there have been good ones. Fran and I dosed him with fever reducer, covered him with ice packs and cold cloths, then we waited. Slowly, the fever abated. I was to meet a new employee to go over her contract that evening, but called her to postpone to the next day – I didn’t want to leave until I was sure Bird would be okay on his own. That actually happened earlier than expected, and I finally crawled into bed, the telephone beside me just in case, thankful that the panic was over. But it wasn’t.
My 18 year old grandson, driving to work in the wee hours of the next morning, had a tire fall off his newly purchased car, fought for control, and ended up smashing into a guard rail, totally scrapping his automobile. The miracle is that neither he nor his passenger was hurt; they came within an inch of going over the rail and rolling down the side of the mountain. Being young, he was more upset about now having to make payments on a vehicle he can no longer use, but, of course, his mom and the rest of us see it in another light. To hell with the car! To add insult to injury, that same afternoon he discovered that his bank debit card had been cloned, and the thieves had emptied $300.00 from his bank account. And I thought I was having a bad day!!
The update in this soap opera of our lives is that I really am going to be a grandmother for the sixth time; Bird is feeling much better (must have been the 24 hour flu); my grandson was reimbursed the $300.00 by the bank, and is shopping for a new car and will never, never again buy one without it being thoroughly inspected; the janitor left a message saying he repaired the toilet last night; and Bud is easily taking his medication, albeit wrapped up in cheese. The crazy, crazy day is back to normal...for the moment.
Sending you all a big warm SMILE, and wishing you an exciting (but not crazy) Wednesday!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
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